


And Should These Dreams Become Reality

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Chan, Explicit Language, Gen, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-05
Updated: 2005-11-05
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: And should these dreams become reality, the screams from the dreamer will bring the world to a new high, a high of suffering and pain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

And Should These Dreams Become Reality  
Sharptongue  
hpotterexpert@aol.com  
NC-17  
Harry/Draco, Harry/Severus, Harry/Lucius  
Draco/Severus, Draco/Sirius  
Severus/Sirius, Severus/Remus

Don't own it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*

“I want you on your knees and sucking me before I can count to ten,” Master tells him, his face contorted into a scowl. He counts from one, slowly moving up. Lucius has his mouth attatched to Master’s erection before he reaches six, and Master smiles.

“You,” he says, pointing to me. “It’s Friday, six at night. You know what to do. Get to work.” He tosses me a knife and I catch it by the handle. The blade is dull, and I wince. I’ve never used such a dull blade on Lucius. I’d have to apply such pressure and cause him so much pain. Sharper knives are easier to manipulate and suprisingly, splatter much less blood. I was once queasy at the sight of blood, but I’ve gotten used to it. “Stop,” Master orders Lucius, and he removes his mouth from the still-stiff erection. Lucius pulls off his shirt, revealing a mass of scars and dried, as well as wet, blood. 

The scars are in thousands of different shapes, patterns, numbers, letters, and symbols. Master surveys his chest, as do I. I created this mess of designs, and it once took the Imperius curse. Now I almost enjoy it. Or at least, I think I do, because it makes me hard and I want to come when I pull the knife out. But I have yet to touch it to the skin, because I await Master’s command. “What shape would you like, Master?” I ask. 

Master isn’t sure, I know, because his eyes are flickering around the room, looking for something for me to sculp in Lucius’s chest. Lucius’s eyes flicker around the room for a different reason – he looks for an escape. That’s the cause for his punishment. Meanwhile, as he thinks, Master nods to Lucius, encouraging him to Say It. “Thank you, Master,” he chokes out, “For allowing me a chance to repent for my sins.” I harden at that statement as always. Something about Master’s punishments to Lucius always turn me on. 

“And you?” he prompts me. I bow my head and kneel submissively. I may be his favorite pet, but I am still a pet, and I must show him respect. 

“Thank you, Master, for giving me an opportunity to punish those less skilled than I in the art of pleasuring you.” My line is more complex than Lucius’s, probably because I’m not constantly delusional from the pain of having my chest cut open. And I’m smarter than Lucius, or so Master says, and can manage more. Lucius is just a pet; I’m a Special pet. Master nods in his approval, and meets my eyes, washed-out gray instead of their former silver color. “Have you decided, Master?” I ask.

He nods and rubs my head softly. I look expectantly at him and he finally speaks again: “A snake.” This will be difficult, I know, with so blunt a knife. The curves of the snake’s body, the details of the eye and tongue. But it was a command from my Master, and I must obey.

I press the knife to the soft, pale skin and, without warning, plunge it in. Lucius has learned not to cry out, but I see his face contort in pain as I force the knife through the tough skin. As it is as deep as I wish to make the cut, I slowly rotate the knife in the shape of a semicircle – the head of the snake. I curve it in the shape of a lowercase R, but much looser and curvier. I repeat this several times, hearing the sloshing of blood and watching it splatter, and I come in my pants. I let go of the knife, letting the cold blade touch Lucius’s chest, and kneel before Master.

He looks at me and shakes his head, disappointed. It breaks my heart. “Draco, Draco,” he says. “I’m so disappointed in you. I thought I taught you how to control yourself. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” I say, my voice choked with tears. How could I be so stupid? Master taught me to be good! Why can’t I be good?

“Sorry isn’t good enough, my pet,” he says. Lucius whimpers, but we ignore him. Master shakes his head again. “Now, now. Don’t cry, my Dragon. Hold me tightly, we’re going to Lord.” I shiver. 

Lord’s punishments hurt so much more than Master’s. I am Master’s favorite, but Lord plays no favorites. I feel the first tear slide down my face. Master kisses it away affectionately. “Don’t worry, Dragon. You’ll be good soon, I promise.” I hug him and look up at his eyes, my own eyes wide.

“Really?” I whisper, awed at his beauty and all the love he gives me. He nods, and I bury my head in his shoulder, sobbing openly. Then I remember that Master does not approve of crying. It is a weakness, and Master likes me to be strong. Not weak, like Lucius. 

“Draco,” he says firmly, and I stifle my tears in his shirt. Then it hits me, that I am ruining his beautiful shirt. I kneel, and he sits in his throne, indicating that I should sit on his lap. “Come, Dragon, we are going to Lord.” We disappear, and appear within a moment in Lord’s chambers. Master walks over to Lord and embraces him tightly. I don’t like to admit it, but I am slightly jealous of Lord. Master loves him unconditionally, and not as a pet, but an equal. If I were Master’s equal, I wouldn’t ruin it, like I did when we were at school. 

“Harry,” Lord murmurs, and kisses his lips passionately. I remain on my knees, waiting to be acknowledged by Lord. He sees me and raises his boot to my chin and kicks, sending me flying backwards against the wall. I bite my lip to keep from crying. It is so hard to be with Lord when I am used to be with Master. Master, who loves me. 

“Lord,” I whisper, crawling back to Lord and kissing his feet. That was why he kicked me; I’d forgotten to do that. He surveyed me, tight-lipped and eyes cold. My head is bowed, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind my back. I am on my knees. The perfect picture of submission. A perfect pet. 

“Whore.” 

The word still hurts, although it is all Lord ever calls me. Master prefers dragon, pet, or even my given name, but he will never confront Lord. He loves Lord. I say he loves me, but it is more a matter of tolerating and accepting me. He trained me, his pet Dragon. Maybe he does love me, but in a different way than how he loves Lord. 

Allow me to explain something. Although Lord’s title implies that he is more “important” than Master, they are the Dark Lords together, and neither has power over the other. Master trained Lucius and me, however, and decided to reward his love, Lord, by gifting him with that title from Master’s two favorite pets, Lucius and me. In return, Lord forces his favorite pets – Hermione, Remus, and Sirius – to treat Master with the utmost respect.

I scan the room and see the aforementioned three pets in chains. Hermione is crying; Remus and Sirius are entwined around each other, sweaty bodies pale from never being outside. Bruises cover their bodies as scars do Lucius’s. Remus and Sirius glare at me for distracting their Lord, bringing his attention towards me and away from them. 

“Filthy whore, address your Lord,” he snarls. I kiss his feet again and assume The Position – kneeling, my hands on his knees, neck straining upwards so that my lips are pressed against his crotch. He rubs my head, hurting my scalp, though I don’t dare say so. He shoves me onto my back and my legs fly up and spread, giving him access to my groin. He yanks down my underwear, which would be better described as a loincloth, and grabs at my cock, squeezing it harshly. I feel as though he will rip it off with the force he is yanking it at.

“Now, now, Severus,” I hear Master’s voice, and Lord steps back. My hands strain upwards and Master lifts me up as he might a child, or a dog – my legs are wrapped around his waist, stomach, or something around there, and my arms are around his neck. He rubs my back comfortingly, and I bury my head in his shoulder. “Draco was only trying to please you.”

“Of course, Harry, the boy is so perfect that everything he does is meant with care,” Lord scoffs. “I wonder why you are so particular towards him.” He spanks my ass, bare without the loincloth and, truthfully, little more protected even with the loincloth. Harry rubs it after the sting of his hand fades a little bit. “He’s so defiant.”

“He tries, my love,” Harry told him. “He does. He doesn’t even hesitate to cut open his own father. He’d cut himself up if I asked him to. Wouldn’t you, my precious?” 

I beam and look at him, moving my head from his shoulder so that I am looking right at him. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master. I love you, Master.” Lord snorts with laughter and slaps me again.

“I love you too, baby,” Master tells me, and I can’t believe it. First he calls me precious, then baby, and tells me he loves me! My breathing quickens. Could he really mean it? That he would love a lowly slave like me?

“Master, you shouldn’t waste your love on a filthy slave like me, master. I don’t deserve it, Master,” I tell him solemnly after kissing his cheek. He caresses me, and Lord coughs.

“Don’t fill his head with silly lies, Harry,” Lord tells Master. “He’s filth, nothing more.” For a moment, I think Master might slap Lord, the way his face fills with anger. Then he breathes deeply and looks at me.

“Go make that snake on your father’s chest, Dragon.” He hands me Floo Powder and Lord kicks me into the fireplace. It’s lucky I don’t burn easily, because my worthless ankles hit the ground before I release the Floo Powder.

Lord is laughing and as I spot Lucius, bleeding badly on the ground, I pick up the knife and continue carving the snake. He cries out, not having noticed me there, and Master appears a moment later. “Good boy,” he tells me, rubbing my hair affectionately. I swoon under his touch and could collapse with the pleasure.

“Master,” I whisper. He trails a finger down my cheek until it pinches my nipple, hard. I cry out in a mixture of pain and delight at the fact that Master is touching me. “I love you, Master,” I whisper, and try to finish carving the snake. 

“Allow me,” Master says smoothly, and picks up the knife. He slashes it brutally through Lucius’s skin, several times, and I hear Lucius cry. Soon it is down to the last cut, and one more swerve of the knife will complete the snake. Master hands me the knife and I slash it vertically into Lucius’s skin. He screams and I see all the blood spilling out. Master sighs in pleasure. He loves blood.

“Good night, Lucius,” he murmurs, gathering me into his arms and carrying me into The Bedroom.

Lord is sitting on the bed, his favorite pet, Sirius, at his feet, on the floor, shaking with silent tears. I crawl over to him, and he comforts me – we have a certain friendship, in which he tries to avoid me suffering any pain at all, because I am a child. Master says I was never a child, though – I never had a childhood. I was always teasing him with my eyes and he finally decided to take action. 

Anyway, as Sirius holds me tightly, I scan the room for the three that always attend to Master and Lord’s needs, those who take care of Sirius and me after Master and Lord are finished with us. I see them kneeling at the foot of the bed, in their uniforms. These are slaves, which are different from pets because Master and Lord do not have any interactions with them.

The day I first recognized them, Master punished me for thinking of my life before his love. But I still know who they are – Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Ginny Weasley. Their heads are bowed in submission, and they wear slave uniforms – pale blue underwear and a tight leather collar round their necks. Ginny’s 38Cs are swinging, though she isn’t moving, and another slave, Nymphadora Tonks, rushes over to stop her from moving without Master’s permission. Punishments on the female slaves hurt the most, and Lord’s pet, Hermione, is punished daily. Since he’s gay, he usually uses Crucio, which, I imagine, is why Neville the slave cares for her. 

The nightly routine starts as Master and Lord stand up. Sirius and I crawl to their feet and begin simultaneously disrobing our owners, not leaving our knees. As Master and Lord’s trousers bag around their ankles, they step out of them and then lie down on the bed. Both Sirius and I crawl onto the bed and begin pleasuring our superiors. We never say it, but we’d kill to be in their positions, with them at our feet, sucking so softly and gently. 

After climax shoots down my throat and I swallow obediently, Sirius and I crawl to the floor and lie on our stomachs, naked on the cold, hard floor. The usual stinging chill shoots into my crotch, and the pressure I put on it aches, though not as much as when Master fists me. I feel Master and Lord climb off the bed and kneel on the floor. Master’s knees are on either side of my legs, and Lord is in the same position, kneeling above Sirius.

I hear screams from Sirius already – Lord likes to hear noises such as those – and feel a cool, lubricated finger pry its way into my arse. It is followed by another, and another. I hear Lord’s climax before the fourth finger slides in, but once Master pulls said finger out, I feel a new sensation. Fingers pry at either side of my arsehole, stretching it. Another cool, oiled object presses against my flesh, and I relax. I am safe with Master. He pushes in slowly, and I moan in delight. Only Master can make me cry and want to kiss him so thoroughly at the same time. His climax sends a bolt of joy through my body. 

Now I feel colder skin against my legs and know that Master and Lord have switched places. This will hurt, I know, and I hear little whimpers from Sirius. Suddenly, Lord’s painfully hard shaft forces its way inside me. A yell tears itself from my body, and my scream echoes against the walls. Since it is so rare that Lord takes me on the same night that Master does, I am not used to such blinding pain. My eyes screwed shut, face contorted in pain, I try to endure the painful thrusts. 

“Scream for me, Malfoy, he orders.” For a moment I am unsure who he is talking to. Malfoy… was that really my name, once? No, Master calls Lucius that. I am stronger than Lucius, more powerful, more loved. How could we share anything, Lucius and I, let alone a name? I shudder with the thought. 

Once I remember I was given a direct order, I obey, letting more piercing shrieks echo through the room. A searing pain sends itself through my body, and I see blackness.

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“Baby?” I hear as I open my eyes tentatively. Bright green lights beckon me further into the world of the living, and I want to touch these lights. My arm feels unbearably heavy as I reach it upward, straining toward the glow. A sweet, warm laugh makes itself known to me, and a gentle hand brings my arm back to rest at my side. “Dragon, wake up.” Suddenly my eyes flicker open abruptly. Only Master calls me Dragon, and I must listen to him, tired though I am. Pets don’t have a right to be tired, however. 

“I’m sorry, Master,” I choke out as my voice fills with tears. They sting behind my eyes. Will I be punished by Lord again? My fears are assuaged, however, as strong arms wrap around my body, lifting me into a sitting position. Soon I am sobbing into Master’s shoulder, held in his arms with my legs wrapped around his waist. It is a position I am in often, and recal when he first brought me to Lord… was it today? Yesterday? I can’t remember. 

“There, there, my baby dragon,” he cooes, rubbing circles on my back. “We’re safe here, sweetheart. Give Master a kiss.” I do not hesitate, press my lips to his and kiss him gently at first. His tongue prods at mine, poking out of my own mouth, and I obey him, opening my mouth and letting him explore my mouth. 

“What happened, Master?” I ask. I can remember nothing after the pain, Lord’s sweaty hips slapping against mine as he thrusted, my screams, Sirius’s moans of pleasure and Master’s climax. I remember the horrible, tearing pain when Lord pulled out of me and my arms tighten around Master’s neck. I am scared. 

“Nothing, Draco,” he says with a sigh, and begins carrying me to his bedroom – so warm and inviting, different from The Bedroom. “Baby, I want to pleasure you,” he tells me, and I gasp. Heavy sobs escape my throat and I bury my head in his chest, shaking. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… I don’t deserve that, Master,” I whisper. My voice breaks, because of how much I would love to be Master’s equal, his lover… but I never can be. “I’m your pet, remember? You’re my Master.” 

His warm eyes fade into cold, icy green, then flicker open and shut. He almost looks angry, and when he speaks, his voice is in a tone of forced calm. “I know very well where we stand, Draco. And now, remove your… loincloth… so that I may pleasure you. Or better yet…” His warm hands on my flesh, tugging down the soft silk, then lifting up my legs so the loincloth slides onto the floor. 

I am fully exposed for Master, my legs spread and my semi-erection dangling. I wonder if I will be punished for not being fully prepared for Master. “Please don’t beat me, Master,” I whimper, and my erection wilts to utter softness. I gasp in fear. “Please, Master, I’m sorry,” I beg. 

Now his eyes are cold, and I am terrified. “When have I beat you, Dragon?” he asks, his voice struggling to maintain calm. “When have I ever laid an uncaring hand on you. Never mind, don’t answer that. His hands are at my throat, unfastening my collar. “Go,” he orders, and I start to crawl off the bed, crashing to the ground with a loud BANG. I hear a terrified gasp before I black out again. 

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This time I am not awoken pleasantly. My cold, shivering body lies on a dusty floor, and my arms are manacled together, and from there are chained to the wall. My legs, too, are shackled. I am unable to move at all. My eyes scan the room, and I see a shadowy figure moving closer towards me. “Malfoy, are you okay?” Lord’s voice. 

“Yes, Lord, I’m sorry for falling asleep, please don’t punish me,” I stammer. I hurt too badly to endure another punishment now. I review what he said to me and am confused. He asked if I was alright? Why did he care? 

“Not Lord, Malfoy,” he says. “Severus.” Now he is on his knees in front of me, using a wet washcloth to dab at my cuts – underneath my eye, above my lip, on my shoulder, and a painful slash across my bare stomach. My eyes dart downwards and I gasp. A thin white line encircles my crotch, outlining each organ and, apparantly, piercing through them. My vision is hazy, and I can make out little detail. 

“But that would be disrespectful,” I tell him, and then gasp. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Severus, I’m disobedient, please don’t punish me, please.” I throw my arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. What is wrong with me? 

“No, Malfoy. You’re not a pet anymore. You’re free.” I look around and see that one comforting figure is missing from this picture. Before I can ask, L- Severus interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. Potter’s in Azkaban. You’ll never have to see him again.” 

My breath hitches before my sobs increase. Never see Master again? I cannot make out the hysterical things I scream, my arms flailing about, kicking, the chains in a heap on the floor. I black out again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Draco?” comes a comforting voice, unfamiliar to me. I look up and meet silver eyes I never expected to see again. 

I am lying in a small room, with white walls and white sheets on the bed where I lay. My father is sitting in a chair by the nighttable at the foot of my bed, leaning against the wall. A copy of The Daily Prophet rests in his lap. 

“Father?” I ask, and my voice struggles to get around the unfamiliar word. So used to pet, slave, and Lucius am I that such a word is almost too difficult for me to manage. His arm drapes itself around my shoulder, and I glance down. I am wearing my old favorite pajamas – pale green cashmere, with a half-turtleneck. I have warm, fuzzy socks on and am draped in about six white sheets as well as what seems to be Father’s coat. 

“It’s okay, Draco,” I hear softly in my ear. “It’s over. Look over there.” My eyes slowly move to the other side of the room, where they settle on a large crowd of people, making no noise at all, looking apprehensive. 

Remus Lupin. Sirius Black. Hermione Granger. Master. Severus. Wait – 

“Master?” I ask breathlessly. 

“No. Not Master anymore, baby,” he says gently. “May I sit with you?” I nod eagerly, and he sits down next to me, his shoulder touching mine as we lean against the headboard. Lucius, meanwhile, is watching attentively from his chair next to the nighttable. “Listen, baby. I treated you badly. I did a lot of bad things. You should hate me after what I put you through, and I am only here on a leave of absense from Azkaban. You should never have to see me again, and you won’t have to. I tortured you and so many others.” 

Nobody really knows how I should reply, I can tell. I do, though. I wrap my arm around Ma—Harry’s shoulder and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, Harry. I understand. I love you.” 

End Draco’s Tale


End file.
